Chapter Text
“When the fuck would we ever even use that maneuver?” Septon complains loudly on the flight field, apparently thinking that Professor Kaori’s flight lesson today was overkill.
“Let me think, uh… battle!” Garrick retorts incredulously.
“But dragons are so much bigger and faster than gryphons. The only thing the enemy has on us is agility, and other than the initial jump from our dragon’s back, once we’re off, a rider in freefall is even less maneuverable than a dragon. Plus, then our dragon has to come catch us, and not all of them are great at that,” Septon groans, rubbing his ass.
“Back me up here, Xaden,” Garrick insists. “Are you even listening?”
I hadn’t really been, honestly. I’ve been distracted all day since sharing that memory with Violet this morning, eager to get through the day and hopefully back into her bed. But in an effort not to be too obvious about that in front of Garrick, I quickly try to parse what I can remember of Septon’s rant. “You’re a third-year wingleader who’s about to graduate, Septon. All you had to do was jump off your dragon and let him catch you. During the War Game between my wing and Nyra’s the other week, some dick jumped off his own and landed on another rider’s dragon. So you’re whining makes it sound like you don’t mind being so thoroughly shown up by, oh yeah, he was a first-year.”
Septon scoffs dismissively and veers off, probably to go complain to someone else, as Garrick and I continue on our way back to the citadel.
“Riorson, remarkable work today!” Professor Kaori calls appreciatively. “You almost looked like a huge bat out there with those shadow-wings, I was impressed with how agile you proved to be with them.”
“Thanks professor,” I call back, choosing not to mention the fact that I’ve practiced the maneuver on my own a dozen times or so over the last couple of years.
“Where are you headed in such a hurry?” Garrick asks, jogging a few steps to keep up.
“Nowhere.” I state firmly before thinking better of it. “Actually, fuck it, I’m going to need your help getting a new armoire up there later anyway, so I guess there’s no point trying to avoid your insufferability… Violet’s room, we hooked up last night.”
“Fuck yeah!” Garrick curses happily under his breath, stopping dead in his tracks and doing a stupid little jig.
“You know people can see you, right?” I ask. “I know you’ve been telling me to go for it, but I still thought your feelings would be at least somewhat tempered by the potential risk to the movement here.”
“Nah, she’ll come around on that. And I’m in such a dry spell I’m just living vicariously through you on this.”
“Gross.”
“Hold on, how does a hookup relate to her needing a new armoire?” Garrick starts.
I sigh, knowing he’ll never drop this until I come clean, and that he’ll never let me hear the end of it once I do.
Five minutes later I knock on Violet’s door and through it I hear her muffled call for me to enter.
I feel my own ward slide over me as I walk through and my heart skips a beat as I drink in the sight of my love. I’m allowed to think things like that, right? As long as I make sure she doesn’t start doing the same thing?
“I just wanted-” I stop short as I take stock of the rest of the room. “Somehow I’d convinced myself today that we hadn’t done that much damage but…”
“Yeah, it’s…”
We look at each other and both grin bashfully.
“Look,” Violet starts, a hint of nervousness in her tone, “this doesn’t have to be awkward or anything. We’re both adults.”
I almost smile - pointing out the potential for awkwardness is never a great way to avoid it. “Good, because I wasn’t going to make it that way. But the least I can do is help you clean up.” I look over at the collapsed armoire and cringe. “I swear it didn’t look quite that ruined in the darkness when I left this morning. Turns out you set more than a few trees on fire last night, too. Took two water wielders to get them out.”
She blushes and deftly changes the subject observing, “You took off early,” while turning and starting to gather books from where they’d fallen next to her desk.
“I had a leadership meeting and needed to get an early start.” I bend down beside her and pick another book up off the floor.
“Oh. That makes perfect sense. So it wasn’t because I snore or anything.”
“No.” This time I do smile. Is this amazing woman who’s destined to become the most powerful rider of our generation feeling insecure? Then it occurs to me that even though she’s less than three years younger than me, those are very important years in this context. It’s entirely possible that my own sexual history is more than twice as long as hers. Either way, in case I’m right about her feeling uncomfortable, I decide to steer the conversation elsewhere. “How did training with Carr go?”
“I can wield, but I can’t aim, and it’s completely exhausting.” Her expression tightens and an image flashes down the bond showing lightning striking Barlowe on the tower from her point of view. “You know, you were kind of an asshole on the flight field yesterday.”
“Yes. I told you what I thought you needed to hear to get through the moment,” or rather through the coming war, knowing that if humanity still exists in a decade it will only be because she eventually gave in and used her signet as a weapon of mass destruction against the venin. But since I can’t say that, let’s go with a valid excuse that’s more topical - “I know you don’t like other people to see you vulnerable, and you…”
“Were vulnerable,” she completes the thought so I don’t have to.
“If it makes you feel better I couldn’t keep anything down after the first time I killed anyone, either. I don’t think less of you for having a reaction like that. Just means you still have your humanity.”
“So do you,” she replies earnestly, her fingers brushing my skin as she carefully takes the book from my hand.
“That’s debatable,” I scoff.
“It’s not. Not to me.”
Uh oh, maybe that insecurity isn’t about sex. It doesn’t seem possible, but is there a chance that despite being so far above me in every sense that matters, she’s starting to fall for me after one night together? I turn away, trying to gather the willpower to shut that down.
“Tell me something real,” she blurts.
“Like what?”
“Like…” she pauses, grasping for a moment. “Like where you went the night I found you in the courtyard.”
I try to think back. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that. Third-years get sent away all the time.”
“You had Bodhi with you. It was right before the Gauntlet.”
“Oh.” I look away again as she compulsively licks her lower lip. Gods, even her nervous ticks are seductive as hell. I busy myself by retrieving another book from the floor.
“I would never tell anyone anything you tell me,” she vows. “I hope you know that.”
“I know. You never told a soul about what you saw under the tree last fall.” What if I don’t have to completely shut down the idea of this being more than casual sex? After all, my hope is that once she does have all of the information she needs to make an informed decision about what being in a serious relationship with me entails, she’ll decide she wants to be a part of the revolution and be willing to accept the risks. Rather than that being a daunting choice, what if I could smooth the transition by making it an appealing prospect for her to think: ‘Oh, here’s why my moderately serious kinda-boyfriend hasn’t let anything go any further, and now that I know, I’m excited join a righteous revolution and for all of those walls to fall away so we can give a real relationship a shot.’ Yeah.
“Athebyne,” I admit. “You can’t know why or ask anything else, but that’s where we were.”
“Oh.” She seems surprised, though I’m not sure if it's by the answer itself or the fact that I answered at all. “Thank you for telling me.” She looks down and fiddles with the book in her hand, then seems to notice that its binding is damaged. “Damn.”
She opens the book, inspecting a spot where the back cover is splitting from the spine and it appears that the corner of a separate piece of paper is poking out.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Not sure.” She pulls the parchment out of its makeshift pocket. I see writing on the page and she gasps softly so I take a step back to let her read it in private.
After several seconds she hands the paper to me - uh, okay - and starts searching through the book as if she hopes to find more. So I read what turns out to be a letter from her dad.
My Violet,
By the time you find this, you’ll most likely be in the Scribe Quadrant. Remember that folklore is passed from one generation to the next to teach us about our past. If we lose it, we lose the links to our past. It only takes one desperate generation to change history - even erase it.
I know you’ll make the right choice when the time comes. You have always been the best of both your mother and me.
Love,
Dad
“That’s cryptic,” I observe carefully. Holy shit, is there any chance the part about erasing history could be referring to when any mention of darkwielders was wiped from Navarrian archives?
“He got a little… cryptic in the years after Brennan died,” she says sadly. “Losing my brother made my father even more reclusive. I only really got to spend time with him because I was always in the Archives, studying to be a scribe.”
There’s always the possibility that this is all unrelated, but if it weren’t about something potentially dangerous then what would be the point of being cryptic about it? It would make so much sense if the ‘folklore’ was referring to the only way in which knowledge of the venin survived within the borders of Navarre, in which they’re portrayed as fictional monsters.
If he knew the truth, telling Violet directly would’ve endangered her, but he could have wanted to prepare her by familiarizing her with that folklore as much much as possible in hopes that it might contain some kernels of truth and to plant a seed that would eventually help her make ‘the right choice’ when the time inevitably came.
“What do you think he was trying to tell you?” I carefully probe, hoping to get her to share more about this folklore. If it is about darkwielders, as far as I’m concerned that would all but confirm my theory.
“I don’t know. Every fable in this book is about how too much power corrupts, so maybe he felt someone in leadership was corrupt.” She lifts her gaze from the book to me and her tone turns playful as she quips, “I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if General Melgren ripped a mask off one day and revealed he was a terrifying venin. That man has always given me the creeps.”
I force myself to laugh quietly at the joke while internally freaking out and rejoicing simultaneously. Okay, yes this is a big revelation that will likely help smooth her recruitment, but right now I need to play the part… She believes the darkwielders are just folklore and is joking about it. Meet her where she’s at. “Well, let’s hope not that.” I reply to her farcical accusation of Melgren. “My dad used to say venin were biding their time in the Barrens and one day were coming to get us - if we didn’t eat our vegetables. He said one day there would be no magic left in the kingdom if we weren’t careful.” And now I’m doing the same thing for her, this is my own version of how Dad shared those fables with me as a child to prepare me for the truths he revealed later. It’s almost the anniversary of his execution…
“I’m sorry-” she begins, but when I reflexively tense up at the potential mention of my father’s death, she pivots. “So, which mess should we tackle first?”
Attempting to banish that darkness from my mind, I refocus on the joy I was just feeling a minute ago. I’m virtually certain that her own father is reaching out from beyond the grave to effectively help in recruiting her to the revolution, so as soon as I can arrange for her brother to seemingly rise from his own, there can be no question as to which side she’ll choose. Everything standing between us will melt away. I can keep things from getting too serious in the meantime, but it seems harmless to allow things to continue slowly for now.
I bend down to gather some clothes from within the pile of scrapwood we made of her armoire yesterday and then turn back to her grinning, “I have a better idea of how to spend our night.”
“Oh?” She seems intrigued as if she’d welcome some play, but then concern creases her brow and she retreats a step. “You said not to fall for you. Did you change your mind?”
“Absolutely not,” I respond automatically, taken off guard by the question.
“Right,” she replies tersely. “Here’s the thing. I don’t think I can separate sex from emotion when it comes to you. We’re already too close for that, and if we hook up again, I’m going to eventually fall for you.”
“You won’t,” I try to assure myself as much as her. Her light is in such opposition to my darkness what are the chances she even would anyway? I choose to ignore the cognitive dissonance that a minute ago I was convincing myself things would work out so easily in the not too distant future. Now that my natural assumption that she’s too good for me better alleviates a more immediate concern I find myself defaulting back to that mindset all too easily. “You don’t really know me. Not at my core.”
“I know enough,” she insists quietly. “And we’d have all the time in the world to figure it out if you’d stop acting like such an emotional chickenshit and just admit that you’re going to fall for me, too, if we keep this up.”
“I have absolutely no intention of falling for you, Sorrengail,” considering I already have.
“Ouch,” she flinches. “Well it’s apparent that you’re not ready to admit where this is going. So yeah, I think it’s best we agree that this was just a onetime thing. We both needed to blow off some steam, and we did, right?” she shrugs.
“Right.” Shit, how did this go down the tubes so fast? I think to myself while trying to keep my expression impassive.
“So the next time I see you, I’ll just act as cool as you are right now and pretend that I’m not remembering what it feels like to have you sliding inside me.”
What’s this? Maybe she can be persuaded to stick to casual sex. I grin and step toward her. “And I’ll just pretend that I’m not remembering the feel of your soft thighs around my hips or those breathy little sounds you make right before you come.”
“And I’ll ignore the memory of your hands biting into my hips, pinning me to the armoire so you could take me deeper, and your mouth on my throat. Easy.” She steps back but her intention practically blinds me through the bond, she’s trying to lure me to follow. So I do, unable to take my eyes off her mouth as it opens slightly, her breaths coming faster and lifting her chest sensuously time and again.
I smirk slightly as she willingly backs herself against a wall and I place a hand against it just to her left. “Then I guess I’ll ignore the memory of how hot and slick you feel around my cock, and how you cry out for more until all I can think about is how to push every physical limit to be exactly what you need.”
I can see a war taking place behind her eyes, but I consciously put a shield over our bond so as not to continue accidentally eavesdropping on her intentions. She can tell me what she decides.
“You want me,” she asserts, placing a hand on my chest through which I’m sure she must be able to feel my pulse racing. “And I know that scares you even though I want you just as badly.”
Here comes the caveat…
“But here’s the thing. You don’t get to dictate how I feel. You might give the orders out there, but not in here. You don’t get to tell me we can fuck but I can’t fall for you. That’s not fair. You can only respect what I choose to do. So we’re not doing this again until I want to risk my heart. And if I fall, then that’s my problem, not yours. You’re not responsible for my choices.”
Except that if she did fall, that would most definitely be my problem. I CAN’T put her in a situation where that might happen until she’s aware of the danger she’d be getting herself into.
I retreat a step. “I think that’s for the best. I’m graduating soon, and who knows where I’ll end up. Besides, you and I are chained together because of Sgaeyl and Tairn, which complicates… everything.” I continue backing up, needing to put physical distance between us to have any hope of actually following through on what I’m saying. “Besides, with all that pretending, I’m sure we’ll eventually forget last night ever happened.”
She glares at me for several seconds before striding purposefully across the room, collecting the broken pieces of her throwing target and returning to shove them into my chest. “I never figured you for a liar, Xaden. You can get me a new one when you’re ready to come to your senses. Then we’ll blow off some steam.”
As she escorts me out of her room I do my best to convince myself that this is for the best. There’s no way it could have worked out in the end. Despite her insistence to the contrary, if she ‘never figured me for a liar’ then she truly doesn’t know me at all.
…
“Well, fuck,” Garrick curses bitterly.
I glance around to make sure that none of the rest of the wing or section leaders at the table are listening in while Garrick absorbs the news that King Tauri will be coming here for the anniversary of the Apostasy. And there’s Violence down there doing her damndest to drive me up a fucking wall with those looks. At least nobody nearby seems to be paying attention to me and Garrick because knowing him he’ll be upset enough to say something borderline treasonous.
“One day history is going to remember that bitch as King Tauri the ‘Why’s everyone stabbing me?’”
I roll my eyes at him and grouse down the bond to Violence, “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” she asks innocently
I glance her way, legitimately annoyed. “Like you’re thinking about the sparring gym last night.”
I get that she doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation and that I should feel lucky that the hottest woman in the citadel is trying to bait me into a relationship, but after a month of abstaining I’m ready to blow a gasket. It is fucking maddening to have to continually rebuff her lest I doom that hypothetical situationship to failure when it’s gravity inevitably catches up to us and brings her crashing back to Earth.
“Well, now that you mention it,” she glides her tongue along her bottom lip like she did when I had her pinned on the mat yesterday.
“Seriously. I can’t think when you look at me like that.” I use lesser magic to unbend the fork clenched in my hand.
I watch as everyone at her table laughs at something Imogen said. She pretends to laugh along but steals another look up at me and chides, “You’re the one with the ridiculous rule about not falling for each other.”
“And we’re all required to be there?” Garrick starts fuming again. “Seriously, if he starts giving a speech about the righteousness of murdering our parents at least a few of us are going to lose control of our sign-”
“I know,” I interrupt him. “That’s why I’m going to advise everyone not to be there. If none of us show up I doubt they’ll punish us all, or at least it won’t be anything too drastic. Whereas if someone did lose control of their signet and attack him, we’d all be dead.”
I lower my eyes and try to take a calming breath. I can feel Violet’s continuing intention to goad me. “You’re still looking,” I accuse.
“You make it hard to look away.” Through the bond I receive an image of myself staring down in wonder as I… no, she was coming for the second time that glorious night a month ago.
Malek help me. “I’m over here keeping my hands and memories to myself because you asked me to, and you’re fucking me with your eyes.”
I hear a fork clatter to the ground in her direction and look up again to see her red-faced and making excuses as everyone at their table stares at her except Liam who raises an eyebrow in my direction.
“Told you to stop staring,” I chuckle with satisfaction.
“If you’d just man up and admit that there’s something between us, I would strip down to my skin so you could see every single inch of me. And once I had you begging, I’d drop down to my knees, undo those flight leathers you’re wearing, and wrap my lips around-”
I gasp involuntarily and suck a bite of sausage into my windpipe. My eyes immediately begin to water as I choke and splutter. The entire hall goes eerily quiet as every face turns towards. Garrick thumps me on the back until the sausage comes dislodged. I wave for him to stop and immediately reach for my water glass.
Conversation slowly starts back up again as I continue to wheeze and look down to find Violence smirking.
“You’re going to be the death of me.”
…
I vacillate back and forth in how I think about my dad. On the one hand I hero-worship him as the righteous martyr he was, it helps that I was still young enough when he was murdered that I hadn’t completely outgrown that childhood naivety wherein kids think of their fathers as omniscient paragons that can do no wrong. But on the other hand, I’m now mature enough to be able to recognize that he arguably fucked up more spectacularly than anyone in a thousand years.
Granted I could also argue that everyone who knows about the venin and is actively hiding it is fucking up much worse, but taking their idiocy as a given, Fen Riorson was the one person born into the circumstances to have a legitimate shot at saving the continent. I know he tried his best, but the reality is that he ended up getting himself and every other major player in his rebellion killed. That largely left the fate of millions of people, and perhaps humanity itself, in the hands of a few dozen teenagers and a bunch of children.
Six years.
I was seventeen when my entire world collapsed around me. How has it been six years since that day already? In a lot of ways I still feel like that adolescent boy - lost, simply acting like I know what I’m doing, putting on a brave face for all the younger ones that look to me now that all of our parents are gone. Fuck you for leaving me in this living hell, Dad.
…
No.
Not today.
I can go back to flip-flopping about my feelings towards him the rest of the time. This is the one day I set aside to honor him. He couldn’t have known he was following the wrong strategy, he really did do everything he possibly could - including making the ultimate sacrifice - to try to save us all. To try to save me.
I roll out of bed, without having slept a single wink last night, and start getting dressed. I’m hopeful that they won’t punish all of us, at least all that much, for ditching the ‘celebration’ this evening, but I can’t push it any further than that. I have to at least get through my classes today, then I can allow myself to fucking shut down tonight.
I head down to Battle Brief.
When I walk into the auditorium I instinctively trace the bond to find where Violence is seated below. Gods she’s beautiful. And far too good for the likes of me. Don’t fall for me…
Professor Devera jumps right into today’s briefing. I pay enough attention for the first several minutes to be able to glean any news about the real war, but otherwise find it difficult to pay attention.
“Take me to bed,” Violence says suddenly through the bond.
“It might be awkward in front of all these people.”
“Might be worth it,” she replies coquettishly.
Devera starts grilling the assembled mass of students on what they’d do about the new instance of weakening wards. Gods, there’s too much shit that actually matters to let this torture continue distracting me.
“I haven’t changed my mind, Violence. There’s no future for us.”
“And when no reinforcements are available?” Devera counters Rhiannon’s suggestion. “You have noticed that the graduating classes from the Riders Quadrant are diminishing every year, while the uptick in attacks has cost us another seven riders and their dragons this year, haven’t you?”
I sigh and shake my head. We really are so fucked.
“Graduation is ten days away,” Violence prods.
“Don’t remind me,” I grumble back as Rhiannon revises her suggestion, proposing to reassign riders from midland posts.
I can see Violence huffing below. “Are you really going to leave Basgiath without-”
“Yes.” I cut her off.
She bristles at the definitiveness with which I asserted that and her intentions start flooding down the bond, so I have to place a shield over it to keep from reading her. But they just continue washing up against it like someone impatient hammering on a door to be let in.
“Whatever you’re thinking can wait until there’s not a room of people between us,” I retort.
Thankfully this manages to quiet her for a minute as Devera provides additional details that make it sound more and more like the wards at this border outpost in the mountains were weakened because a venin spy managed to steal some of their armory’s alloy-hilted daggers. Just like at Montserrat.
“Is there someone else?” Violence demands.
“I’m not having this discussion right now. Pay attention,” I snap back, missing Aetos’ answer to Devera.
“That’s a good idea, too, Aetos,” Devera smiles at him. “A very wingleader answer, if I might say so.”
Fucking barf.
“Is it Imogen?” There’s an edge of hurt in her voice.
“For fuck’s sake, Violence.”
“Is it? I know we said we weren’t going there again, but -” I can feel her conflicting intentions wrestling. “At least tell me.”
“Sorrengail,” I boom aloud to the room at large, taking satisfaction in the way she goes rigid, and the clever justification I just came up with for doing so.
“Yes, Riorson?” Devera replies, confused.
"If reinforcements were unavailable, I would have asked for Mira Sorrengail to temporarily transfer,” I explain. “The wards are strong at Montserrat, and with her signet, she could reinforce the weaknesses until other riders could arrive to strengthen those wards.”
“Good idea,” Devera approves. “And what riders are the most logical choice to help rebuild the wards in this particular mountain pass?”
“Third-years,” Violence calls, clearly determined to show that two can play at this game of double meanings.
“Go on,” Devera prompts.
“Third-years are taught to build wards, and at this point in the year, they’re leaving anyway,” she says flippantly. “May as well send them early so they can be of use.”
“Point fucking made,” I growl.
I feel the bond crash closed from the other end.
I scoff and turn on my heel as Devera begins wrapping up the briefing. I storm out into the hall before anyone else can to make sure I don’t unconsciously throttle someone with shadows.
“Meet me in the courtyard,” I say to Sgaeyl.
Fuck. This. Day.
…
Dain Aetos
I watch as about half of my squad enters the courtyard. I consider heading over to them but quickly think better of it. I’ve purposefully cultivated a sense of importance around the chain of command within my charges. I've seen the result when laissez-faire squad leaders are more buddy-buddy with their own subordinates - those squads tend to be much smaller by the end of the year.
Unfortunately one upshot of this that I hadn’t considered is that they all see me as their strict superior-officer, and even in more relaxed social situations like this it feels awkward to be friendly with them. None of them particularly want to ‘hangout’ with me. Most of those particular ones even seem to actively dislike me because they’re the ones that are closest with Vi and that loyalty made them sour on me when she and I had that falling out.
I watch most of them scatter, Rhiannon, Nadine, Ridoc and Sawyer all head off in different directions but Liam doesn’t leave Vi’s side.
Gods she looks amazing tonight. But our relationship is another thing my adherence to decorum has unexpectedly subverted. Well, it's been a major factor at least, but my failure to recognize and accept what she’s been developing into was what she’d explicitly told me was the biggest problem. But I'd spent my entire childhood and adolescence seeing her as the tiny, exceedingly fragile future scribe who had always been in need of my assistance or even rescue. There had been times when I’d been in love with that brilliant girl, and though such romantic feelings for each other had never happened to coincide, we had remained best friends for fifteen years, practically our entire living memory. Personally I feel that her transformation from breakable girl into incredibly powerful young woman was much more surprising than my own unchanging inclination to protect her. Why did it surprise and hurt her so much that it was taking me time to adjust?
And how can she not see the hypocrisy of that Son-of-a…Great-Betrayer that she seems to be falling for? Riorson conveniently latched onto her frustrations with me and takes every opportunity to shame me for trying to shield her from the brutality of the Quadrant, while at the same time assigning her a literal bodyguard who is now resolvedly standing his ground even as they’re approached by her mother, General Melgren and the King himself. As if the highest ranking people in the land posed some kind of threat to her, ridiculous. Not to mention that I have chivalrous reasoning behind my efforts, whereas the Wingleader’s incentive for shielding her is selfish - making sure her death doesn't result in his own thanks to their bonded dragons.
The Wingleader. Riorson is distinguishing himself so thoroughly and rising through the ranks so quickly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he eventually advanced to secure one of the hallowed positions of General within a few decades. Dangerous.
They can’t KNOW that he’s really loyal to Navarre. After what Dad said about how General Sorrengail had carved all those scars into him, surely he would try to betray us when the moment is right. Unless, rather than being opportunistic, the situation is even more perilous and he’s instead strategic, even now plotting and secretly working to undermine Navarrian forces like his father before him.
And none of them would ever know. They could never know. The only one with the ability to figure it out for sure is… me.
I know I’ll never be able to get my hands on Riorson himself, but maybe there’s another way. I’ve seen the looks he and Vi have been sharing ever since I apparently screwed up my chances with her after Threshing - my feelings for her flaring right when hers were extinguished for me, just like always seems to happen for us. I feel sick at the thought that I’m all but sure those two have been exploring at least a physical relationship, if not more. So her memories might well contain potential evidence if he is a traitor, even if she doesn’t know it. But no… I can’t betray Vi’s trust like that.
What if it’s the only thing that could save her from him though?
On the other hand, what if I’m blind to my own biases like Riorson claimed and I’m being paranoid and prejudiced? Clearly not all of the marked ones are corrupted by the same treachery as their parents. I have to admit, as long as Riorson was going to assign Vi a bodyguard, I’m glad that it’s Mairi. That guy couldn’t hide the purity of his heart if he tried.
Riorson himself though. The man just seems so dark and tortured, the worst possible match for Vi’s brightness… What is the right thing to do?
My attention shifts to General Melgren and I remember my last conversation with him. When my signet manifested last year it seemed to spook Professor Carr and he’d passed word of it all the way to the very top of the chain of command. The next time Melgren happened to be passing through Basgiath I’d been summoned. He informed me that my memory reading could be classified as an inntinnsic ability. He said that, based on my family's reputation, he’d decided to spare my life for the moment at least, but that the situation amounted to a signed death warrant - he has all the excuse he’d ever need to execute me if he ever so much as suspects me of anything the least bit untoward. Not only that, but he also told me he expected me to use my signet to verify the absolute loyalty of everyone within my sphere of influence. Otherwise I’d be the next victim of Codagh’s dragonfire justice.
Vi and Mairi respectfully back away from the Generals and the King who turn and start walking straight towards …me?
As they approach I quickly try to refocus my attention on the events at hand and bow as deeply as my hamstrings will allow.
“Stand my good man,” the King's voice says cheerfully from above.
I do so and my gaze nervously flits from the King to Lill- General Sorrengail who smiles at me with familiarity so I nod to her and almost return the smile. But then my eyes flit to General Melgren and my half-grin falters. I bow to him as well, though making sure not to bend as low as I did for the king. Shoot, is that the proper protocol or should I have saluted? My brain always stops working properly around Melgren, hopefully bowing to him can’t hurt at least. I nervously straighten up again and General Sorrengail seems to take pity on me by initiating conversation.
“Squad leader Aetos, I was just telling his Majesty how your father is stepping up to take over all planning for the final battle of War Games this year, and how you are proudly following in his footsteps.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m trying my absolute best at least.”
“Yes, Colonel Aetos is one of my most loyal subjects,” King Tauri croons. “And from what I hear, you may do even more than live up to his accomplishments. It sounds as if you have a shot at becoming Wingleader next year. Am I correct in remembering that you were Wingleader, Lillith, and the good Colonel was your executive officer during your own days here at the war college?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“Well considering your prospects and your uniquely strategic gift that General Melgren advised me about last year, perhaps you have even loftier role models to aspire to,” the King says, laying a hand on each General’s shoulder.
“I will do everything within my power to do so, your Majesty,” I bow again.
“See that you do,” General Melgren eyes me judgementally as the other two take their leave, then he follows a moment later.
I have the favor of the King himself! I smile to myself. And as for what the right thing to do is, there’s no choice. General Melgren ordered me to use my signet to root out potential traitors among our ranks. If Riorson is loyal then my targeted reading of Vi’s memories will result in no harm being done and she never needs to know. And if Riorson is plotting against Navarre… well that possibility is why there’s no choice.
I look up and sweep my gaze around to find Vi. Our eyes meet and I head her way.
Alright, I'm not trying to invade her privacy and see if they've been intimate, I just need to know if he's opened up to her about anything he'd make sure to keep secret from anyone outside his circle of marked ones, I prepare myself as I approach her. Focus on the concepts of secrecy, vulnerability, and honesty - a time when he opened up to her despite thinking it might not be wise.
I try my best to smile naturally as I reach her and cup her cheek just like it was the old days. “You look beautiful tonight, Vi.” A few potential candidate memories present themselves to me.
“Thank you,” she replies as I assess the options. One memory feels as if it'll fit my parameters a bit better and also gives less of a sense of intimacy. “You look fabulous yourself,” I hear her say while I select that specific one, pull it into my own mind and lower my hand.
The memory begins playing in my head and I have to consciously turn towards where Liam is and speak over the phantom voices I hear, asking, “Has this one tried to escape yet? She's always hated these things.”
“...never tell anyone anything you tell me, I hope you know that,” Vi is saying in the memory. “I know. You never told a soul about what you saw under the tree last fall,” Xaden rubs the back of his neck. “Athebyne. You can't know why or ask anything else, but that's where we were.”
What? I look back to Vi with no idea what Liam just said to me, only a vague sense that he agreed with my suggestion that Vi would want to leave the party.
“The staircase is about five feet to our right,” I tell her. “I'll distract while you slip away.”
“Thank you,” she nods to me appreciatively before turning to Liam. “Let's get out of here.”
And then they're gone.
Xaden went to Athebyne? With who? And why? Were they assigned to go there? I've never heard of third-years running anything to an outpost all the way on the front lines. Leadership wouldn't endanger cadets like that, sending just a few students rather than a whole squad with an officer as chaperone like they did for us at Montserrat. Would they?
It seems much more likely that he was sneaking off there rather than following orders. But what would he be doing at the border with Poromiel? Unless… he was communicating with the enemy.
I need to find Dad right now!